


But He Began to Drift Away

by filledwithsunshine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Revolution, Angst, Gen, Kinda, M/M, Post-War, Pre-Relationship, Revolutionary War, USUK - Freeform, Unrequited Love, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filledwithsunshine/pseuds/filledwithsunshine
Summary: It all happened so fast. One day, they were happy. The next, he was left alone. His fingers ghosted over everything that used to hold so much more. Each object, no matter how insignificant it seemed in the grand scheme of things, seemed so important to England during this moment. Though, during this moment, he felt more like a human than a country. He felt much more grief than a country should. He would be best referred to as Arthur at this time.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	But He Began to Drift Away

It all happened so fast. One day, they were happy. The next, he was left alone. His fingers ghosted over everything that used to hold so much more. Each object, no matter how insignificant it seemed in the grand scheme of things, seemed so important to England during this moment. Though, during this moment, he felt more like a human than a country. He felt much more grief than a country should. He would be best referred to as Arthur at this time.  
The more he immersed himself in the bedroom, the sadder he became. It felt like just yesterday it was so lively. He remembered so clearly when toys used to be scattered along the floor, when the bed had been left unmade, when there were drawings of heroes and flowers nailed, quite badly, to the walls, and when untouched books covered every shelf around the room. He managed to turn such a boring room, beige walls and hardwood floors, so colorful and unforgettable. All of the things that Arthur had nitpicked and scolded the younger for, he now missed more than ever. He just wanted America back. Though, the America he missed was much more human than he was country. He missed Alfred.  
His fingers gracefully lifted a framed drawing. Back when he was just a boy, Alfred had ran up to Arthur, throwing his, at the time, small figure into Arthur’s arms, so comfortably, so lovingly. He spoke with such an enthusiastic tone, requesting, or more like demanding, excitedly “England! Draw me, draw me!”  
Arthur would never consider himself an artist, that was much more of Italy and Japan’s point of expertise, but how could he deny Alfred? He drew every little bit of him. The way his glasses had been lopsided as he posed, the way his jacket had sat loosely on his shoulder, just a little too big for his tiny body, the growing cowlick that had just began to appear. He drew it all. Alfred had adored it beyond belief, he begged to frame it. And of course, how could Arthur deny Alfred?  
Though now, the frame had rusted. The glass of the frame was shattered by none other than Alfred himself, on March 5, 1770. Where there were once toys, were now old guns and uniforms that carried so much guilt and so many regrettable memories. One of the many reasons Arthur had avoided this very room. It reminded him that, though everything stayed how it had last been, there was always some kind of change that would break him down. The bed was made, pillows symmetrically arranged, covers tucked in neatly. The toys were closed away in a box, Arthur didn’t have the heart to look. Arthur learned the hard way that papers don’t stay up forever, when they’re lazily nailed into stiff walls. The drawings had fallen to the floor, nails lying alongside it, and the drawings of heroes no longer looked so proud. The books stayed the same, though, they remained untouched. Arthur found it cruel that all these things that he would’ve hoped and wished for back then, were now the cause of his demise. He could barely even comprehend the fact that he was even in this room, in this house, on this day.  
The date marked July 4th, 2019. All the other nations were invited alongside Arthur to celebrate Alfred’s birthday, at his place. Though, he couldn’t get the courage to take a single step into the living room, knowing Alfred would be standing there, laughing alongside the other nations happily, with an irreplaceable smile covering his face. He didn’t want to see someone who meant so much to him enjoying the day they diverged so joyfully. He knew it was selfish, but sometimes he was allowed to feel selfish. So he hid away, in the room where everything had once been alright.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work!! I apologize if there are any mistakes, and critique/criticism is accepted with open arms :] Thank u for reading!!


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